


Yet to Come

by louciferish



Series: YOI tumblr shorts [12]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Couch Sex, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, M/M, Post-Canon, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 21:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17454989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louciferish/pseuds/louciferish
Summary: They were only apart for Nationals for a few days, so many people would find their current position ridiculous, but thankfully Victor isn’t engaged tothosepeople.Instead, he gets to be with Yuuri - beautiful, sweet Yuuri, who was equally anxious to be back in Victor’s arms and is currently demonstrating that fact by pushing his hand beneath the waistband of Victor’s track pants to run his icy fingers over the base of Victor’s spine.





	Yet to Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [belovedyuuri (belovedstill)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedstill/gifts).



> Part two in my three-part journey of practicing smut writing. This prompt came from the lovely Basia, and was:  
>  _viktuuri + making out/sexing it up and accidentally doing something that makes them stop--and realize that they really hecking love it. A 'first time' of a new thing/kink, if you will_

They were only apart for Nationals for a few days, so many people would find their current position ridiculous, but thankfully Victor isn’t engaged to _those_ people. 

Instead, he gets to be with Yuuri - beautiful, sweet Yuuri, who was equally anxious to be back in Victor’s arms and is currently demonstrating that fact by pushing his hand beneath the waistband of Victor’s track pants to run his icy fingers over the base of Victor’s spine.

Victor laughs against his mouth. They’re still in the _hallway_. It’s perfect. 

He fumbles the key from his pocket and clicks it home, shoving the door open wide to make room for Victor, Yuuri, and Yuuri’s luggage to pass through without needing to separate. Meanwhile, Yuuri curls his other, hand around the back of Victor’s neck. He yanks Victor’s head down for another biting kiss, driving any other concerns to the farthest corners of Victor’s mouth. Yuuri is a storm of contradictions - his hands so cold, but his response to Victor _searing_.

Yuuri pulls back, and Victor whimpers, trying to capture his mouth again.

“Where’s Makkachin?” Yuuri mumbles.

“Still at Lilia’s,” Victor replies, then hisses when the hand at his waist dips lower, the delicious shock of chilled skin with a lover’s touch making him shiver.

They leave the luggage by the door and pull apart long enough to kick off their shoes and drop their coats, only to collide again - Yuuri’s fingers creeping up under Victor’s shirt, his cheeks still flushed from the bitter air outside. Victor never shies away from the ice; he grabs Yuuri by the hips and tugs him closer, sliding his mouth of Yuuri’s once more.

God, Yuuri was brilliant. Of course, he had every confidence that Yuuri would take gold this week. If only Victor could have been there beside him. They could have proven that the Kiss and Cry deserves its name.

Victor’s shin collides with the side of the couch, and they tumble down onto the soft cushions. He sits back on his heels to find Yuuri looking up at him, a fond smile softening his features and firing the amber highlights in his eyes. He’s breathtaking. 

“We haven’t christened this couch yet,” Victor says, grinning.

Yuuri laughs and shakes his head, but Victor knows Yuuri loves it when he’s shameless. “I just got here,” he teases. “We haven’t even christened the _bed_ yet.”

“Well,” Victor shrugs. “We have to start somewhere.” First, he has to start with those lips - again, because there’s never such thing as too much kissing, and Yuuri’s mouth was most certainly in his Top Ten Yuuri Features, probably near the prime position.

The kiss starts sweet, but soon they’re back to what began in the hallway - Yuuri’s tongue hot in Victor’s mouth, luring him in, nipping at Victor’s lower lip before he moves, sucking little sparks of pleasure into the line of Victor’s jaw.

Victor moans under the attention and fumbles with the hem of Yuuri’s shirt, frantically pushing the cloth aside to dance his fingers across the trained muscles of Yuuri’s stomach. _Victor made those._ The thought sends a pulse of need straight to his cock. 

He reluctantly pulls away from Yuuri’s lips and slides down his body, mouthing the defined lines of Yuuri’s chest, then tracing his midline down, dipping toward Yuuri’s navel. Victor inches down, tantalizingly close to home now. It feels like heat is radiating from Yuuri’s body, urging him onward, and his fingers find the elastic hem of Yuuri’s leggings. 

Victor is just starting to tug at that barrier when Yuuri gasps out, “Wait!” 

At the same time, Yuuri’s hands delve into the longer hair at the back of Victor’s head, and his fingers clench.

The sweet, sharp pull rips a noise from deep in Victor’s throat, something between a moan and a whine. He cuts it, flushing, and Yuuri stares at him, frozen and wide-eyed.

“Was that, uh-” Yuuri pauses to lick his lips, then tries again. “Was that a good noise, or a ‘stop, you’re hurting me’ noise?”

“Good noise,” Victor says, smiling. “I think. Try again?”

Yuuri’s hands burrow deeper, and Victor shivers at the feeling of blunt nails scratching along his scalp. It’s been ages since he let his hair get even this long. He’d forgotten how good it feels to have someone playing with it.

Then, Yuuri makes a fist, and Victor arches, mouth falling open in a gasp that ends as a whimper.

“Yeah?” Yuuri says. His lips are already kiss-swollen and made more tempting when he bites at them.

“Yeah,” Victor confirms, a little breathless. He crawls back up Yuuri’s body, rocking their hips together as he dips his head, needing this kiss to prove to Yuuri just how much he loves this new trick - and the old tricks, and the fun new treats that they may not discover for years.

By the time he pulls back from the kiss, need is thrumming through his veins. Yuuri’s left hand is still resting at the base of his skull, a reminder, and Victor _wants_ -

He could ask for what he wants. He knows Yuuri would never judge him, but he’s deeply aware of the pressure of that hand in his hair, and it makes him feel strangely shy. 

“I want…,” he begins, but can’t bring himself to finish the request.

Yuuri reaches up, sliding his thumb across Victor’s lower lip, still slick from kissing. His eyes are _eros_ , but his cheeks are flushed, as he asks on Victor’s behalf. “You want to suck me?”

Victor nods, nuzzling into Yuuri’s palm. Yes. Yes. His cock twitches at the thought, and he grinds against Yuuri’s leg on instinct.

Yuuri pulls away and scoots higher on the sofa, reclining against the arm, and Victor loves him, his thoughtful fiance, making a space where Victor can bend comfortably without moving to the floor and hurting his knees.

He tugs at Yuuri’s leggings until Yuuri lifts his hips, and Victor pulls his pants and underwear both out of the way, not bothering to remove them completely. Yuuri makes such a delicious picture this way - laying out with his shirt rucked up to his chest and his cock out, blood-dark and twitching under Victor’s attention. He looks thoroughly debauched already, and Victor yearns to take him apart entirely.

He licks his lips, and then Yuuri’s hand is back in his hair, twisting the strands between nimble fingers as he tugs Victor’s head gently downward. 

This act is a contradiction, and Victor loves it. It’s submission, with Yuuri’s hand cupping the back of his skull, guiding the placement and speed of Victor’s movements, but it’s also _power_ and love and caring. Victor has one of Yuuri’s most vulnerable places held between his teeth. Anyone who thinks sucking dick is a purely submissive act has never truly experienced it - Yuuri’s gasp as Victor swallows around him, the way his legs spasm and his fingers clench in Victor’s hair.

That curl sparks across his scalp, and Victor moans around Yuuri’s cock, a feedback loop that makes Yuuri writhe again, helpless.

Victor rolls with the rock of Yuuri’s hips and the pressure of Yuuri’s fingers in his hair, lets Yuuri be the one to guide Victor where he needs, and slips his hand down the waist of his own pants, thrusting into his palm as he nestles between Yuuri’s legs. When Yuuri comes, he arches up, a keening sound threading from his throat, and his hands clench, pulling at Victor’s hair and leaving little halfmoon impressions in his skin.

Panting into Yuuri’s hip, Victor curls his hand around his own cock. He comes a few minutes later with Yuuri’s hands still massaging his scalp and soft words of encouragement curling into his ears. 

Victor’s gasps become soft laughter, and he looks up to find Yuuri grinning at him in return. He crawls up the sofa to rest in Yuuri’s arms, wrapped entirely up in each other to fit on the narrow cushions. 

The apartment is silent except for the quiet hum of the heater, and Victor counts the seconds between the rise and fall of Yuuri’s chest beneath him, wondering if perhaps he’s fallen asleep.

“We need to buy a bigger sofa,” Yuuri says, shattering the quiet.

Victor props himself up on his hand, looking down at his fiance, and traces his thumb over the smooth curve of Yuuri’s cheek. “Why?” he pouts. “I like this sofa. We just broke it in! Now I have memories attached.”

Yuuri’s arm tightens around his waist in answer, tugging Victor even closer. “We were only apart for _three days_ , Vitya. Imagine what will happen if we get separated for Grand Prix events.”

“I don’t want to,” Victor mutters, burying his face in the curve of Yuuri’s neck. But, Yuuri has a point. Maybe they need a bigger sofa. Maybe they need a bigger _bed_. 

One thing at a time, he reminds himself as he tightens his grip on Yuuri’s shirt, far from ready to let go now that they’re together again. First, a better sofa. Later, a bigger house, a fenced yard, maybe a swing set… 

Yes. All of that is still to come.


End file.
